The gods and ghosts have vanished, and dungeons have appeared.
The Netherworld is gone from the world. All that remains are a host of indescribable beings, lurking in the depths of dungeons and coveting the underworld!
Clear a dungeon, and you gain a class!
No one knows where the dungeons came from!
Shen Zhao knows even less. All he knows is that he's about to die.
The original owner was eight years old when he found a token in his grandfather's grave. He copied a scene from a TV drama and used his blood to claim it as his own, accidentally activating the token!
From then on, his lifespan burned away ten times faster. Only slaying ghosts could undo it.
But in this world, there wasn't a single ghost to be found.
Ten years of searching turned up nothing. Now the token's countdown has only ten days left.
At ten times the rate, he has just one day left to live.
Then an email led him into a dungeon.
In the dense, almost tangible Yin energy, the lonely ghosts he'd searched himself ragged for were trembling in fear.
They feared him.
To them, he was like a glimpse of clear skies.
People all over the world awakened all kinds of classes. He alone held a real position in the underworld's official ranks.
From night-patrol ghost bailiff to Great Emperor of Fengdu.
The authority of the underworld was carved into his palm.
